


Unarmed

by BellJarred



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:10:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellJarred/pseuds/BellJarred
Summary: A weaponless training session is not the only way to leave one unarmed.For: Caraina! (@ Lunaescence Archives)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated To: Caraina  
> FIRST OF ALL, HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY, CRAYONS.  
> I hope it's chill to call you that, haha. Anyway, I saw your earworm blues with TNT lately, so I thought that even if we didn't get paired up for the fic trade, I would write you a little birthday somethin'. Hopefully, I did this in such a way that whoever does the trade with you will have a different way to approach it.
> 
> Also, I hope you like it! I haven't written in a month or so and I feel very rusty. Goodness.
> 
> [1]Baby: Because this is a reader-insert story, I decided to let the reader submit--for the sake of their own imagination--their own choice of weapon. I tried to be as vague as possible when talking about it for that purpose.  
> -~-

**-~-**  
“ _Ain’t Got No Gun,_  
Ain’t Got No Knife,  
Don’t You Start No Fight”  
ACDC’s “ _TNT_ ”  
**-~-**

“How exactly is this fair?” Annoyance dripped from your voice as easily as the sweat from your very skin.

“Since when was what we do _ever_ fair?” your opponent counters, a thin black brow rising above the tides of his signature domino mask. His quip is nothing if not self-satisfied, but you are unsure what you find to be the crowning jewel of aggravation amongst his demeanor. A bo-staff glides around the fingers of his gloved hand with a careless finesse, a taunting grin moonlights above the peak of an impossibly angular jaw, and, with great irritation, you observe that the sheen to his ensemble is a direct result of its spandex components, rather than from an acquired dampness.

“All I’m saying,” you began, tugging at the color of your uniform and subsequently grimacing at the way its sticky material snaps back against your skin, “is that it’s probably more important to learn how to fight with my weapons than without them. After all, can you seriously recall a fight for me in which you or the big guy _once_ ran out of ass-kickin’ tech?”

“It’s not my fault you opted out of the utility belt option, [Name],” he supplies, reaching into said feature for good measure. At once you feel your eyes grow wide, a Pavlovian response to the fistful of exploding pellets he has just retrieved.

“Not those again—” you squeak, your boots making quick work of increasing the gap between the two of you. “Your belt may be limitless, but don’t you have something else in there to play with?”

The reply you receive is a wordless one as the boy before you has undoubtedly opted instead to let his gadgets do the all of the talking.

“You— _boom_ —birdbrain! I’m— _bang_ —defenseless here!” Your voice warbles a panicked tune as your lungs fight for thimblefuls of oxygen. “Just wait until I get my [1] _baby_ back; you’ll be sorry.”

The Boy Wonder hardly seems to be quaking in his boots—reasoning that a threat sandwiched between pants can hardly be considered much of a threat at all—and, on the contrary, merely chortles at you.

When Black Canary had paired you with Robin, it wasn’t hard to guess why. The both of you were members of an elite subset of heroes—those that got by without the use of special powers, alien or otherwise. However, what you hadn’t counted on was the importance she seemed to place on weaponless sparring. After all, the Bat family was nothing without its limitless arsenal of gizmos and gadgets, was it not? And yet, you couldn’t help but notice how Robin was absolutely relishing in what you deemed to be pure torture.

“Do you mean,” Robin begins, delving into his utility belt’s compartments once more. “ _This_ baby?”

Your blood boils at the sight of the weapon in his hands—your weapon—how had he gotten it?

“Where did you get that?” you growl, fury igniting what little energy you had left. “I guess I can get behind the idea of preparation for an unfair fight, but,” you pause in order to address not just your opponent but anyone who might have been watching from the various ceiling cameras scattered about the training room. “How _could_ you, Canary?”

“You must be prepared for anything, [Name], even circumstances like this, although—” Black Canary’s voice echoes around the room.

“This is only a replica, of course. Do you really think I’d sink so low, [Nickname]?” Robin interjects, running his fingers over the length of this “replica” weapon. “Or rather, do you really think that Canary would let me have your weapon?”

Your cheeks redden visibly at this deception—how embarrassing was it to mistake your own weapon?

“Well,” you swallow sheepishly. “A-anything’s possible, right? I mean, they let you on the team!” you tease, an obvious attempt at recovery.

Robin—perhaps since the first time your training had begun—flounders. This incredulousness is, perhaps, deepened by a blur of red and yellow about the room that leaves only the whispers of “sick burn, [Name]” in its wake.

“O-Oh yeah?” he challenges, his fist tightening around the replica of your signature weapon. “I’m _so_ whelmed—”

“That will conclude today’s session, you two!” Canary interrupts, a newfound jovial tone to her decree. “You can pick back up on your flirting later.”

You know that the heroine is only providing the two of you with a bit of good-natured teasing, but still you cannot will away the intrusion of a blush to your burning cheeks.

“WHO WOULD WANT TO FLIRT WITH _HER/HIM_!” The two of you exclaim, digging yourselves a deeper hole on account of your unintended unison. Though you say this, you cannot help but to detect a similar dusting of red about Robin’s cheeks and wonder, ever so faintly, if such a thing was really true.


End file.
